


Make It Work

by Switchadelphia (PumpkinHeadJones)



Series: Switchie's Shorts [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Shaming, Crossdressing, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Slut Shaming, gendered slurs, stalking mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinHeadJones/pseuds/Switchadelphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What, uhhh, what are you wearing there, buddy?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It Work

“Hey-ohhhh, what is up bitches - “

Mac is coming in hot with a juicy, fat piece of news-meat, but when he spots Dennis leaning over the bar in his silver prototype dress, resting his weight on what appears to be a humongous set of fake tits, Mac can only stop dead in his tracks and stare.

Dennis has started to turn to look at him from over his shoulder, and Mac almost doesn’t even notice Charlie’s eyes peaking up from behind the bar as he puts the freshly cleaned beer mugs away.

“What, uhhh, what are you wearing there, buddy?” Mac asks carefully, tiptoeing the rest of his way up to the bar and hooking his fingers together nervously. He lets his eyes dart down far enough to notice that Dennis has shaved his legs, and one side of his skirt is hiked up a bit higher than the other side. He looks away quickly.

“What, this?” Dennis says breezily, turning away from the bar and opening his arms out so Mac can get the full effect of the ensemble; his fake tits bounce and jiggle for a moment from the momentum of swinging them around to face Mac, but eventually they settle. Mac clears his throat.

After taking in the whole look, Mac reminds himself to keep his eyes above the neck and instantly regrets this little bit of forced gentlemanliness. Dennis’s shiny, red lips are twisted into a smirk, and he’s wearing a lot more black stuff around his eyes than usual, which gives them a creepy, dark, sunken-in look in the bar’s dim lighting.

“So, what do you think?” Dennis asks, like he already knows the answer. “About the dress, I mean,” Dennis adds, and Mac either wants to punch or lick that stupid, cheap lipstick right off of his smarmy little bitch mouth. It would be difficult to explain either of those responses, so instead, Mac says,

“That dress makes you look like a two-dollar man-whore in a dress that’s too tight, bro.” Dennis’s smirk diminishes, and Mac continues. “Plus it looks like really shoddy workmanship.”

“Hey, hey, whoa now, come on!” Charlie interrupts, shooting upright from behind the bar. “That is some topnotch workmanship, right there, and you know it, Mac. What do you even know about sewing garments, huh? You can hate on the dress design and Dennis’s shitty body all you want, but that ugly-ass thing is stitched together with perfection! Perfection! Oh God - okay - you know what? I don’t need this shit right now. I’m gonna go huff some paint and kill stuff.” Charlie grabs his rat bashing bat and storms off.

He knows he probably should have said sorry immediately. But right now Mac doesn’t really give a shit if he hurt Charlie’s feelings, just as long as he got to Dennis, too. He’ll just apologize to Charlie later tonight and buy him a sixer or let him stand on his shoulders so he can peak inside the waitress’s living room window. Charlie will be fine, and Mac is more concerned with, well, not so much hurting Dennis’s feelings, since Mac isn’t entirely sure he’s capable of having them in the same way that normal people do, but rather bruising his ego. A quick peak up through his eyelashes at his roommate is all the confirmation he needs as he moves behind the bar to grab himself a beer: All traces of Dennis’s smug little smirk are gone, leaving behind a petulant little scowl.

After Charlie leaves them together to bash some rats and be alone in the basement, Mac and Dennis are left in a tense and uncomfortable silence. Mac can feel Dennis’s piercing stare carving deep into the back of his skull as he pretends to search for a bottle opener. Dennis lets out a sigh and comes around to join him behind the bar, and Mac has to force himself not to tense up like he’s prepared to get decked.

But Dennis doesn’t punch him. He wraps his long, spidery fingers around the hand that’s holding Mac’s beer bottle, and Mac is startled to find that they feel even colder than the glass between his fingers. Dennis isn’t scowling anymore, but the way he’s smiling, like his lips are stretched too tight over his shiny, white teeth, isn’t exactly comforting, either. “Here, baby boy, let me help you with this,” Dennis coos in a falsetto voice, taking the beer bottle out of Mac’s hand. He grabs hold of Mac’s belt loops and tugs him forward, close enough that Dennis’s fake tits are mashed up against Mac’s pecs. Jesus, what the hell did Dennis use to make these fucking things? Mac wonders, but doesn’t ask. Because Dennis is lining up the bottle cap with Mac’s belt buckle, and then he just twists. The movement causes Dennis to brush his knuckles up against the line of Mac’s zipper, which is currently tented forward. Mac jerks his hips back with a strangled grunt.

“Dude, what the fuck, bro?” Mac all but shouts, pushing Dennis away. Dennis either lets him or is too anemic and weak to resist. He’s laughing as he brings Mac’s now-open beer up to his own lips and takes a big swig without blinking or breaking eye contact with him.

“Dude, gimme,” Mac whines - well, no, he doesn’t whine, he growls, in a very manly way - swiping at his beer. He snatches the bottle out of Dennis’s hands, ignoring the way some of it sloshes out and lands on Dennis’s left titty, forming a dark gray wet spot there. He looks at the rim and says, “Oh great, and you got your slutty-ass-looking lipstick all over it, too!”

After a pause, Dennis says, “Do you really think I look like a slut?” Mac wants to say “yes,” but he isn’t sure which answer would actually insult Dennis. He isn’t really like other girls. Dennis continues, “Am I a slutty little whore, Mac? Like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”

“No, more like the fat serial killer-chick in Monster,” Mac spits back, pushing Dennis away again because God-dammit, those titties are pressing up against him again, and when did Dennis even take a step forward? “You know what? Keep this,” he says, thrusting the beer bottle back into Dennis’s icy little fingers. He grabs another beer from the cooler, finds a real bottle opener, and says, “Fuck this. I’m just gonna go get smashed in the bunker. Alone. You’re being way too weird for me to handle tonight, Den.”

“Oh please, like you don’t love every bit of this,” Dennis says dismissively, gesturing down to his body. Mac notices for the first time that he can see the bulge of Dennis’s cock pitching a tent in the skirt of his dress.

“Fuck you, Dennis,” Mac spits, and he hopes he sounds every bit as disgusted as he wants Dennis to believe he feels. He hopes he doesn’t sound as panicked and aroused as he really is. He stomps off to the bunker, flipping Dennis off over his shoulder and forcing himself not to check if Dennis is still even looking at him to notice.

And if he breaks his zipper in his rush to get a hand wrapped around his cock the second he gets the bunker door locked behind him, nobody needs to know that. If he comes in just minutes to the image of Dennis’s slutty red lips wrapped tight around the mouth of Mac’s beer bottle, well, that’s between him and God.

(Later, as he and Charlie are hiding under the waitress’s neighbor’s car to wait for her to get home from work, Charlie asks him what news he had to share earlier, and Mac can only say, “Oh shit, you know what? I totally forgot what that was even about, dude!”)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 28 March 2016.
> 
> Send me requests.


End file.
